


The Brightest, Boldest Flame

by starwarned



Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [26]
Category: Carry On Series - Rainbow Rowell, Simon Snow & Related Fandoms
Genre: COC 2020, COC Day 28, Carry On Countdown, Carry On Countdown (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown 2020, Carry On Countdown 2020 (Simon Snow), Carry On Countdown Day 28, Cliche, CoC, DAY 28 - Party, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, New Year's Eve, New Year's Kiss, Party
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-22
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:54:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28214280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starwarned/pseuds/starwarned
Summary: Carry On Countdown Day 28 - Party“In daylight and up close, he was merciless, all smiles and freckles, the brightest, boldest flame a moth could wish for.” - Alexis HallSimon and Baz spend reluctant time together at a party.
Relationships: Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch & Simon Snow, Tyrannus Basilton "Baz" Pitch/Simon Snow
Series: Carry On Countdown 2020 [26]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2026942
Comments: 4
Kudos: 72
Collections: Carry On Countdown 2020





	The Brightest, Boldest Flame

**Author's Note:**

> this is a bit ahead in time from christmas content but I’ve always wanted to write a cheesy new years fic and here we are! this is probably hella ooc but I had a lot of fun writing it :)
> 
> ALSO CAN WE TALK ABOUT JUST HOW SIMON SNOW THIS QUOTE IS???? wow

**BAZ**

“I can’t believe you invited him,” I hear Snow whisper to Penny when he thinks they’re out of earshot. Little does he know, my earshot is a lot better than most. 

I knew Simon wouldn’t be happy that I’m here. I think Penelope invited me because she’d invited Dev and Niall (only Chomsky knows why she invited  _ them _ — they’re not even remotely friends and I’ve heard Bunce, on multiple occasions, insist that the less friends you have the better). Perhaps she felt bad that I was going to be alone. My family is all off on a holiday at one of our lodges and I couldn’t be bothered enough to join them. I planned on just staying in Mummer’s for the week or hiding in the Catacombs if Snow started to drive me up the wall.

But now I’m at this New Years Party, I guess. And Dev and Niall are probably snogging in a dark corner somewhere so I don’t think they’ll be any comforting company. (When they told me they were dating, I spit tea on both of them in surprise. Not what I was expecting. But then again, I never really took too much interest in their personal lives.)

Simon and Penelope have already disappeared into the crowd so I lean myself up against a wall for just a moment, allowing myself to take a breath. Even though it’s Penelope’s party, this certainly isn’t her home. I think it might be Rhys’, but I didn’t think they were very good friends. I guess Snow’s his friend so I’m sure she utilized that connection. She’s strategic like that. It’s her best quality.

I search out the counter that’s covered in alcohol and immediately beeline towards it. There are just enough people here to make it seem like a trek to get to the drinks. I’m wearing one of my more casual suits, but that doesn’t mean it was  _ cheap _ so when some sloshed bloke almost spills all of his drink on me, I step out of the way and glare at him. He provides a half-arsed apology ( _ “Sorry, man, watch where you’re going!” _ ) and I push past him. I especially need a drink now. 

I pour myself a rum and coke and look up to find Simon Snow’s blue eyes right in front of me. I have to force down a sound of surprise. 

He looks really good tonight. He’s wearing a simple black button down and a nice-fitting pair of jeans — an ensemble that I’ve never seen before and I’m wondering if Penny has a sibling that loaned him clothes that actually fit him. I want to lick his face. 

Instead, I sneer. “I see you’ve found some clothes that haven’t been previously mauled by a pack of wild boars,” I say. (I’m a bit worried that it sounded too much like a compliment so I add a viscous once-over of his outfit.) 

Snow is oblivious as always. He looks down at himself. “Well, my normal clothes are  _ fine _ ,” he insists. “But I borrowed these from Premal.” 

I think I was right on the Bunce-sibling front. 

I take a sip of my drink, grimacing slightly. This liquor quality is very low. Not that I expected any better at a New Years Party thrown by Penelope Bunce (who I don’t think even drinks). “Well,” I say. “I’ve got better places to be.” 

(I don’t, but if I stare at Snow’s ruddy cheeks and nice arms any longer, I’m going to make some incredibly risky decisions.) 

I can feel Snow’s gaze on me as I walk past and I pray to Aleister Crowley that he’s noticing how nice my arse looks in these trousers. I find a secluded hallway further into the house and lean up against a wall so I can get hammered in peace. 

Things between Snow and I have shifted. Ever since we came back for Eighth Year at Watford, he’s been acting differently around me. Nervous. And even more easily flustered. His cheeks are practically constantly pink when I’m around (which doesn’t make me want to kiss or bite him any less).

I’m pretty sure he’s got something to hide and I’d, personally, love to needle it out of him. Snow’s usually easy to read so the concept of him hiding something from me is incredibly intriguing. 

“I’ll catch ya later, Pen!” 

A kind of sloshed Simon Snow stumbles into my vision, gently bumping up against the opposite wall as he trips a bit over his feet. He takes a sip of his drink before making eye contact with me. 

“Baz,” he says, smiling. 

I don’t know that he’s ever said my name with a smile before. 

(It makes my insides burn.)

“Snow,” I drawl, the alcohol in my system helping me loosen up a bit. The more I look at Snow, the more I think he’s not really sloshed — he’s just happy and loose. He has a lovely blush spread over his cheeks and his eyes are shining.

I’m drawn like a fucking moth to his flame. (A flammable moth to his explosive flame).

This is his element, surely. 

**SIMON**

I feel insanely out of my element. 

I don’t think I’m good with parties. There are a lot of people and everyone’s drunk and multiple girls have (literally) thrown themselves at me. (It’s flattering, I suppose, but I really have my sights set on one person tonight.) 

_ Baz _ . 

I know, I know. We’ve been enemies for years. He hates me. 

But, this summer, I couldn’t stop thinking about him. That’s not really any different from any other summer, I reckon, but I  _ let myself _ consider it this time. The way his hair falls around his face, his thighs in his football kit, when he pokes his tongue out to wet his lips while he’s thinking. I spent the entire summer wanking. 

And I think I fancy him. 

Real enemies to lovers bullshit. 

Well, if I can pick up the courage to kiss him. I hope to tonight. I originally begged Penny not to invite him because I planned on getting plastered and not worrying about looking like a fool in front of anyone, but she did anyway. 

And I suppose it’s better this way because I’ve had half a cup of a mixed drink that tastes like pure juice and I feel looser than I have in months. 

And here’s Baz, leaning up against a wall, sipping his rum and coke like he’s above everyone else at this party. (And he is. Both in height and in every other sense of the word. It used to infuriate me that he was so much taller than me, but now I imagine him pushing me up against a wall and towering over me and, well… that’s why I wanked the summer away, innit?) 

I take a swig of my drink and step on over to Baz. I lean up against the wall in front of him. “Figured you’d be lurking in a corner somewhere,” I say teasingly. Fuck, I hope he doesn’t hit me. 

(I have no clue if Baz would even consider thinking of me in a romantic way. We’ve spent the majority of our adolescence at each other’s throats and he always finds a way to make some comment about how I’m lesser than him. I’m not optimistic.) 

“I’d much rather be here than in the midst of sweaty teenagers dry-humping.” 

I think about dry-humping Baz and it makes my cheeks burn. 

“Right,” I say, sipping the last of my drink. I hold the empty plastic cup, not sure how to dispose of it without leaving. I just clutch it like a lifeline. “Where’re Dev and Niall?” I ask. 

He scoffs a bit. “Off somewhere with their tongues in each other’s mouths.” 

I think about having my tongue in Baz’s mouth. Somehow, I think I’m blushing even more now. Maybe I can blame it on the alcohol in my system. 

“I didn’t realize they were together,” I mumble. Because I didn’t. 

Baz laughs, but it’s a joyless laugh. “Neither did I,” he says. “Until a week ago.” And then, quieter, he adds, “Good for them.” And it looks like he means it. 

“Are you enjoying yourself?” I ask because I don’t want the conversation to end there. It’s the wrong thing to say and Baz snaps his eyes to mine and sneers. 

“Yes, Snow, I’m having a lovely time shoved in a corner with a drunk Chosen One trying to entertain me with small talk,” he says, his lip curling. 

I frown and wish I still had more alcohol in my cup. I wish I were actually drunk and not just barely buzzed. “Sorry,” I mumble. And apparently my mouth is just as loose as my faculties because I say, “I just want you to have a good time.” 

Baz is clearly taken aback. He doesn’t respond for a moment, but then says, “Thanks, I suppose.” 

There’s a bout of silence, but I don’t necessarily feel awkward. Baz finishes off his drink. There’s still the loud noises of teenagers partying behind me, but I can only focus Baz. 

I just have to ask him. This isn’t the only chance I’ll ever get, but it feels like a good time to ask, I guess. 

“Why do you hate me, Baz?” I ask softly. 

He looks up at me from his empty cup. He laughs, short and harsh. “I could ask you the same question, Snow.” 

“I don’t,” I say immediately. And then fall back, mumbling, “I don’t  _ hate  _ you.” 

“Oh,” Baz says. 

I look down at my cup. 

“I don’t really hate you either,” he says finally. And when I peek a glance at him, he’s looking away as if he can’t bear to look in the eyes. “I reckon I hate what you stand for or whatever. And I hate The Mage. And you’re a shit roommate. It’s our destiny to destroy each other.” 

_ Destiny.  _ A word I’m fucking tired of hearing.    
  


“Why?” I ask. 

He looks at me. “Don’t ask stupid questions.” 

I hold his gaze with mine. “It’s not a stupid question,” I insist. “Why is it our destiny to destroy each other? Because of The Mage? Because of your family? Why does that matter? We’re fucking teenagers for godsakes. Why does everything rest on our shoulders?” 

I think Baz knows I’m not just talking about us anymore. Not just.

“Because that’s the way it has to be, Snow.” 

“ _ Why? _ ” I press. 

“Because.” 

“That’s a shitty answer.” 

Baz looks at me and narrows his eyes. “Well, that’s how it is. If you don’t like the answer, then fucking change it yourself.” 

I want to. 

I hear people shouting behind us. 

_ “Ten!”  _

“It’s almost midnight,” I say. Stupidly. 

_ “Eight!”  _

“I know,” Baz says. 

_ “Six!”  _

I’m looking at Baz and maybe I’m imagining it (but probably not because I’m sobered up by this point), but there’s a softness in his eyes. 

_ “Five!”  _

A curl falls in my face when I move my head a bit closer. Baz reaches up and brushes it back from my eyes. 

_ “Three!”  _

He looks at my mouth. 

_ “Two!”  _

I grab him by the neck. 

_ “One!”  _

Destiny is a fucking stupid word and an even stupider concept. Because my “destiny” wouldn’t have led me here — kissing Baz up against a wall at the start of a new year. 

New beginnings and all that shite. 

**Author's Note:**

> find me on [tumblr](snowybank.tumblr.com)!


End file.
